iling, and was now waiting for the
storm to break. And what he said to Wallis was this:

"What the deuce does this tomfoolery mean?" As he spoke he felt the
accumulated capacity for temper of the last seven years surging up
toward Wallis, and Arthur, and Phyllis, and the carriage-horses, and
everything else, down to the two conductors. Wallis seemed rather
relieved than otherwise. Waiting for a storm to break is rather wearing.

"Well, sir, Mrs. Harrington, she thought, sir, that--that a little move
would do you good. And you didn't want to be bothered, sir----"

"Bothered!" shouted Allan, not at all like a bored and dying invalid. "I
should think I did, when a change in my whole way of life is made! Who
gave you, or Mrs. Harrington, permission for this outrageous
performance! It's sheer, brutal, insulting idiocy!"

"Nobody, sir--yes, sir," replied Wallis meekly. "Would you care for a
drink, sir--or anything?"

"_No!_" thundered Allan.

"Or a fan?" ventured Wallis, approaching near with that article and
laying it on the coverlid. Allan's hand snatched the fan angrily--and
before he thought he had hurled it at Wallis! Weakly, it is true, for it
lighted ingloriously about five feet away; but he had _thrown_ it, with
a movement that must have put to use the muscles of the long-disused
upper arm. Wallis sat suddenly down and caught his breath.

"Mr. Allan!" he said. "Do you know what you did then? You _threw_, and
you haven't been able to use more than your forearm before! Oh, Mr.
Allan, you're getting better!"

Allan himself lay in astonishment at his feat, and forgot to be angry
for a moment. "I certainly did!" he said.

"And the way you lost your temper!" went on Wallis enthusiastically.
"Oh, Mr. Allan, it was beautiful! You haven't been more than to say
snarly since the accident! It was so like the way you used to throw
hair-brushes----"

But at the mention of his lost temper Allan remembered to lose it still
further. His old capacity for storming, a healthy lad's healthy young
hot-temperedness, had been weakened by long disuse, but he did fairly
well. Secretly it was a pleasure to him to find that he was alive enough
to care what happened, enough for anger. He demanded presently where he
was going.

"Not more than two hours' ride, sir, I heard Mr. De Guenther mention,"
answered Wallis at once. "A little place called Wallraven--quite
country, sir, I believe."

"So the De Guenthers are in it, too!" said Al